


Be Yours

by ToWhomItMayConcern



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Death, F/M, Fluff, Knight AU, Smut, Violence, future dark themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:48:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23597107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToWhomItMayConcern/pseuds/ToWhomItMayConcern
Summary: As princess of Riverhearth, you have to tread the dangerous world of death and dark forces you're suddenly thrusted in in the midst of war and worst of all, love.UPDATE: The battle between OC and 'You' has been finalized and it looks like 'You' won! Thank you to all who commented and helped me out.I'm still gonna leave the OC chapter in just because. If anyone still wants to see an OC version I may cook up something for you guys!
Relationships: The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Fem!Reader, The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Reader, The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/You
Comments: 22
Kudos: 51





	1. Chapter 1

You could smell the blood.  
It was coated all around you, in the small patch of meadow around the fields you grew up around. You looked down and saw it was on your hands as well. The stickiness and heaviness of it was distinct, dripping slowly between the cracks of your fingers. 

You heard your name being called but couldn’t decipher who it was. Everything was slow and sluggish as you started to turn around. But whatever or whomever it was, it was peace, it was home, it was – 

You awoke with a gasp, clutching your blanket. Your heart pounded heavily against your ribcage, mouth dry and temple pulsing. You frantically looked down at your hands, afraid to see them crimson.

Pale as the day you were born. 

With a sigh of relief, you inspected your room, morbidly expecting blood to be seeping from the plain dark walls. Your nightgown was sticking to you uncomfortably, hair frizzled and eyes shifting from every corner of your room. You were sure you looked utterly mad. 

The sun shined brightly through the curtains of your light blue room, rays of gold splaying across the wooden floor. Dust laid still in the air through the sun’s rays, and you could briefly taste it on your tongue. 

“Princess?” 

You jumped, still gripping the top of your blanket, knuckles white. Jules peered through, closing the door behind her and giving you a look. 

“Another nightmare?”

A nightmare. Yes, yes that’s what that was.  
“Yes,” you finally croaked. You cleared your throat before continuing. “But it is nothing to fret over.”

Jules snorted as she pulled back the curtains, laughing at your grimace as you shielded your face from the blinding sun. 

“You have been having nightmares for many a night now. It is a sign.”

Jules, with her light brown, straight hair, blue eyes and slender form was not only a loyal servant, but a dear friend as well. Just at the tender age of thirteen Jules was appointed to you, who was only a year older than yourself. It was the picking of her father, Bringham, that brought the two of you together. 

“It is through my mother that I know you now,” Jules had told you once. “And I am fortunate to be here, with you and the King.”

You knew she’d rather be anywhere but under a Royal’s thumb. Jules was too kind to say it aloud, but you knew. 

But despite the position, Jules had the voice of a singer, soft and sweet and pleasing to the ears of those around her, even now in the early sets of morning. You often found yourself jealous of her gift.

“No sign,” you argued. “Foolish to dwell on when there’s wars and sickness to worry about.”

It was the same excuse every time. You had a duty to fulfill, a title to fill if your father failed to do so before his death. 

So you were the only one next in line for the crown, the responsibilities of your people, and you could not afford to waste it on pointless dreams. 

“Well the joust is today,” Jules chimed your name, throwing a gown at you. You huffed as it hit you in the face, glaring at the grinning girl. “And that guard of yours is the ever brooding Dark Knight.”

You tried to bite back the smile that wanted to desperately graze your lips. “He’s barely a friend, Jules.”

And you didn’t know what he looked like.  
“And I’m the queen,” Jules quipped back with a roll of her eyes. “Your father expects you to be in the halls after you are dressed. Please don’t keep him waiting.”

You grumbled as you stood up, shedding off your damp nightgown and throwing on the beautiful and elegant blue gown; simple with your family's crescent, a river and a lively tree, laced around the edges and forearm.

You poked at your face, grimacing at the light grey under your eyes. You would need it covered soon. 

For some odd reason, it had you thinking of your late mother. 

Your mother, who many said that you practically wore her face. 

“Take it from Adriana, and you have yourself right there.” They would follow with. 

It made your father bristle at the mention of your mother, and more so when he would study you; watching from afar with careful eyes. 

But today was not the day to dwell on such horrors and sadness. Today was a day of celebration, a day to bring everyone together. 

“Ah!” Your father, Bringham, greeted you with a warm smile. “Please, sit next to me dear.”

King Bringham of Riverhearth was still a handsome man even in his middle age, with his dark hair - turning grey with age - and crinkled brown eyes. You could never see this, but you heard the whispers among the crowds in the marketplace, all young and old and in between gushing over the widowed king. It bothered you at a young age, but you grew to just simply ignore them as you got older; you didn’t need to waste your time on their helpless dreams anyway. 

Because despite every desirable, participating and willing woman flooding the courts for one chance at his hand in marriage, Bringham would turn them away each time with a soft, apologizing smile.

“You do not need to worry of such things,” Bringham had told you.

“Of course I do,” you argued. “You’re my father, and you deserve love just as the rest of us. Why have you not given it a second chance?”

“And why not you give it a chance at all? You’re no better than I when it comes to suitors.”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, mulling over his words. 

They indeed held truth to them, but you refused to give him an answer when this night was supposed to be about him. 

“This isn’t about me,” you voiced.

He gave you a small, closed lip smile. It was in that smile that you saw that he wasn’t going to explain his reasoning's to you You liked to think that he just could not fathom or form the words left unsaid between them; the loss of you mother, the beautiful queen and a loving wife, it was too much to bear on his still heavy and sore heart. 

But never did he ever make you or anyone else believe that you were the reasoning behind Queen Adriana’s death. 

“She gave life, and she saw that as a blessing on her own.” Bringham told you. 

That night was peculiar in your memories, just only a week ago. It was warm, a slight, comfortable breeze enveloping through the ports. Your father had been drinking, and you thought do indulge yourself as well.

You weren’t queen yet. 

You did not stop until your mind and body felt sluggish, and you also felt overly bubbly and bold. You skipped through the halls of her home quietly, soft as feathers. 

You had been looking for Jules but could not find her in sight. You found this as unusual of your friend, but it was quickly dismissed when you bumped into a hard barrier, nearly falling back onto your rump when a pair of hard, strong arms caught you. 

You struggled to recall your previous lectures of etiquettes when you saw him. 

“Oh!” You gasped. “I’m t-terribly sorry.”

Din was… a complete enigma. 

Appointed at a very young age as a knight and soldier in training to one of your own guards, he had been loyal to your family since you were a teenager. You had no knowledge of his upbringings and where he originated from at all. He rarely spoke unless needed, and even then it was short and to the point. But he was a very skilled fighter and was valued by all and every in times of wars and miscellaneous, dirty jobs. He always complied with no questions, no quarrels. That’s why he was the perfect soldier. 

And in a world, in a kingdom where all royal knights could never show their faces after their creed, you were never able to see his face. 

The logic behind these oaths were always questioned, yourself included. 

“Dignity. Loyal. These men and women need to be the perfect soldiers in order to protect our people. It has worked for many years, and will continue to do so.”

You weren’t so sure of that. 

The helmet, silver with a slit for him to see through, that was staring back at you with intensity. 

“Princess,” he said gruffly. His voice, hard and yet soft even covered, never failed to send shivers through your body, and for your heart to skip several beats. “It’s late. What are you doing running about?”

His stare bore deep into your orbs, and you found herself giggling at the seemingly silly question. 

“Looking for you, my knight,” you said with a childish glee. 

“You need to be asleep. I’m sure your father is.”

You could not help it, but you rolled your eyes at him with a quirky smile. 

“Please, Din.” You sighed. “He will not be woken up. He’s had himself a few too much tonight.”

He grunted. “It seems as though you have as well, Princess.”

This caused you to frown. “Please, call me by my name. We have this talk at least once or twice a week.”

You heard the shift of his silver armor - painted with your Royal’s crescent and doing little to hide the protruding build of the man - as he twitched, moving slightly away from you. You saw this as a nervous tick, a means to hide back behind his tower and go back to silence.

You immediately regretted saying anything when you missed the warmth of his arms against you, despite the cold bite of his armor. 

He said your name cautiously. “It would be unprofessional of me to not call you by your title.”

You didn’t know why, but you found yourself giggling again, twirling around the halls as you continued to laugh. 

“Right. You’re one of the fiercest knights of Riverhearth.” Your voice grew louder as your giddiness did, and you could barely hear Din’s shushes over the rushing waves in your ears. 

“Brave, strong, healthy, and dangerous. Din Djarin of… of Nowhere’s Land! Where are you from, my precious guard? Just who are you? What is under all that armor?”

You had never seen Din freeze like he had that night. It was a guilty memory added to the growing list. 

But Din quickly shook it off, and you hated how remarkably good he was at keeping his composure, whereas you sometimes let your emotions get the best of you. 

“You do not need to know such things, Princess,” he said, walking towards you now that you had stopped moving from him. “You know enough about me to go on.”

“But I ought to know something more,” you pouted. Then you straightened up with a set jaw. “And as Princess of this court, I demand you tell me this instance!”

You swore you could hear his smile, but before you could tease him about it he sighed heavily through his nose and, again, you were sure, narrowed his eyes at you. You started to smile triumphantly before you were abruptly turned around in the spot, being pushed - gently although, like he was afraid to touch you - towards the direction of her bedroom. 

“Unfair,” you whined.

“Princesses don’t always get what they want,” he quipped. “You should start learning that.”

You should have felt a little offended by his words, but you found it to be humorous in nature. 

“I think that’s the first time you’ve ever spoken to me like that, Din.”

He must have just realized it as well, because he stopped for a millisecond before continuing his path to your door, making sure you didn’t trip or stumble along the way; it proved a lot harder than he predicted, but thank goodness you were not completely over the rails. 

“You better get used to it then if you continue this way.”

You giggled. “Aw why? Am I -” You crossed your arms over your heart, gasping in exceragation and leaning heavily against him. “A bother to you, good knight?”

He shook his head at you and eased you into your bedroom without making too much noise, helping you lie down on your bed with a gentle flop. 

“It must be a very lonely life,” you found herself rambling. “When you’re as dedicated to the Court as yourself.”

There was nothing but the rustling of your sheets as you settled into your bed, eyes already closed and feeling dizzy from your previous excursions. 

You did not expect him to respond, and he did, but not with what you wanted to hear. 

“Rest. You will feel like roadkill in the morning, and I do not want to explain to the King on why his daughter was running around drunk at such witching hours.”

Witching hours, Din worrying about you getting a pinch on the wrist by your father, the luck of trying to find Jules leading to this conversation, it all was funny to you and you actually were able to let out a tiny giggle before succumbing to sleep. 

The next morning, as Din had told you, you did in fact feel like roadkill. Your brain thrummed against her skull, and you had to pretend that everything was okay and that you could still perform your royal duties without puking your guts out. 

Just like Din had pretended that the night before never happened. You had expected at least a polite hello or a joke about your splitting headache, but all you received was an order passed through him by your father while you were in the gardens that surrounded your pretty castle, poised and stoic. 

It made your heart lurch in defeat, but you respected him enough to let it be and to move on your days without the normal teasing and failed attempts at getting him to hold a conversation with you. It hurt greatly, but the sting of it eased when he visibly grew more relaxed around you as you calmed your efforts. 

“Patience,” your instructor had taught you. “Is a virtue, and it is a hardship you must grow accustomed to if you want to do anything in this world. Especially for a future queen as yourself.”

It was a lot more easier said than done. Even at the tender age of just twenty-one, you still had such a hard time grasping the ethics of it. 

“You will be a fine queen one day,” Jules once told you. “But they are right about one thing: you are incredibly stubborn and reckless for a title.”

So what if you were. You respected and held knowledge for the duties of your kingdom, but why should you completely erase the person you were for what was rightfully yours?

“You’ll see it one day,” Jules promised you. “Once you start acting like an adult.”

“I do!” You argued. “It is not my fault that no one sees me.”

She snorted. “I’m sure you’ll be looking back at this shaking your head at your annoying, stubborn self.”

Maybe, but you didn’t see that anytime soon in your future. 

“Dear?”

The sound of your father’s voice broke you out of your thoughts, shaking your head to clear them away. 

“Sorry, in a bit of a daydream.” You murmured to Bringham. 

He chuckled. “You wouldn’t be my daughter if you weren’t.”

You let out her own forced chuckle at his jest, and you sat in comfortable silence as you broke your fast, talking occasionally about the day’s festivities. 

“And how are the ports?” You asked through a sip of your broth. 

“Good,” he nodded his head. “Shipments arrived last night on time. We have more coming in from Colefiend, and another set out for Point Valley in the morning.”

Riverhearth was one of the closest and affordable ports in the North. Surrounded by mountains of spring and summer, there lied an ocean in between. It certainly was not the wealthiest of surrounding kingdoms, but they made well with what they had, and the people were happy and taken care of as King Bringham and the people of the Court attuned to. 

“May I please be excused?”

Bringham gave you a quizzical look. “You may. What are your plans?”

You gave your father a smirk and a tap on the tip of your nose. He made a noise of affirmation and grinned. 

“Ah, I see. Well be sure to be back for the joust, and be careful.”

Your grin grew wider. “Of course, aren’t I always?”

Jules was in the kitchens, helping the cooks and other maidens clean up and prepare varieties of desserts for the upcoming feasts. 

“Hello, Princess,” one of the cooks, Peter, greeted you. “Would you like a taste of my new recipe?”

You hummed. “As always Peter. No need to ask of me.”

He laughed. “As you wish.”

Peter held a wooden spoon over an open palm, bringing up to you for you to taste. The sauce was rich with exotic spices, and was smooth on your taste buds. 

“It’s delicious!” You exclaimed. “Just add a pinch of salt and it’s perfection.”

He grinned and nodded, going back to hover over his new creation. “Always a keen one, Princess.”

You bounced through until you found Jules, and immediately grabbed her hand. You turned to Peter, hugging Jules close to you as she giggled and you lightly scrunched her cheeks in your hand. 

“May I borrow this lovely, beautiful, elegant, and most gullible being until the festivities?” You asked through a fit of laughter and a smack against the shoulder from your dear friend as you smiled. 

Peter laughed. “Yes, your highness. Do not wander off too far!”

You and Jules agreed and ran out of the gray but pleasant castle. You ran through the gardens, through the maze and fields of flowers blooming, and through the forest that littered by. 

The forest was peculiar in its nature. Twisted vines that protruded from dead trees - though surrounded by live ones, a little confusing to you by the oddity and spratics of it - with little weeds littering along the trail. 

The trail itself was wide enough for two people to walk through without the curves of the forest's slopes. Despite its initial darkness to it, the woods was nothing but life; it was the type of beauty You appreciated greatly. 

By the time You and Jules reached it they were out of breath, giggling and rushing towards the edge of the cliff that gave one of the most beautiful views of the waters. A tall, blossom tree hung above you as you plopped down onto the grass, careful not to ruin your blue gown. 

“The joust is going to start soon,” Jules said. 

You could hear the music from there, faint but distinctive all the same. Din would be preparing right now, polishing and sharpening his sword and putting on the heavy armor he wore every day and night. It all sounded exhausting to you. 

“Hmm.”

You basked in the sun, the salty smell of the water, blue and all. This is where you truly felt at peace, like you could strip naked without a care in the world and be free, in whatever sense you needed to be. You were sure Jules felt the same way, with the glazed look in her eyes and the longing. It made you ridden with guilt each time you saw it. 

It was when the music became louder you spotted a ship rounding the corner.

“I didn’t know we were expecting visitors,” Jules said quizzically. 

“We weren’t.” You said quietly, eyebrows furrowed. “And we’re not due for another shipment either.”

You both looked to each other, confusion etched on your faces. 

“It is time to head back anyways,” Jules told you, getting up and helping you to your feet. “We shall find out there.”

The way back was quicker. You departed when they reached the stands, hugging before you went to sit next to your father, smiling and greeting anyone who looked towards you. 

“Little late,” your father chastised. 

You ignored his remark, pausing as you saw something small sitting in your chair. At closer inspection, you realized it was a flower, a lily flower at that; it was your favorite.

“Not my gift I’m afraid,” Bringham answered before you could ask. “And I have no idea on who could’ve left it there either.”

You picked it up delicately, curling a hand over it as if you were going to pet it. Whoever had left this for you, they paid enough attention to know your flower of choice; the flower your mother had nearly named you after. 

“Do we have guests coming our way?” 

He tensed slightly, but was quick to brush it off. “Nothing to worry about my dear girl.”

You chewed on your lip, a nervous habit of hers; another inheritance from her mother her father would tell her. 

“And you’d tell me if I needed to know.”

“Of course.”

It was fruitless to press in front of the village people. You turned back to the stables, where the knights were preparing with their horses. But your scowl was still visible on your face, and your father sighed softly at the sight of it, knowing he was going to have to answer for it later. 

Everyone started to grow silent as the drums signalled the official start of the joust. Your eyes searched keenly for your knight, grinning when he saw him appear. 

You found it funny when Jules occasionally called Din the ‘Dark’ Knight. His armor was everything but, all silver, chain mail glittering in the sun. You supposed your friend was right in the sense that it certainly didn’t match his personality. 

And with all the horror stories that echoed across lands and valleys of his victories?

You could see why he was anything but innocent; light. 

You barely heard the announcements over the pounding of your heart as you watched the two knights mount their horses. Din’s was a white mare, and gentle despite its size. Sometimes you’d hear him talk to his horse, as if the horse understood the language; he probably wasn’t aware he was doing it anymore. 

Your heart thudded against your chest, watching the Black Knight, a swordsmith you believed to be an appointer of the Royal Guard named Robert. 

They readied their spears, sitting on their respectable sides. You unconsciously leaned in, flower still in hand. 

Din’s horse kicked at the ground, huffing as it prepared itself. You held your breath, as were the others. 

The horn blared and their horses took off, galloping at a furious speed towards each other. 

Robert was a decent fighter, that much you had seen in person. But Din, in your opinion, was better. 

The crowd cheered as a flurry of white and black clashed against each other. The scraping of metal against metal was prominent in the summer air, loud and aggravating. 

“Looks like I made the right choice in guard,” Bringham said. 

Din sat triumphantly as his horse ran back around, Robert laying on the ground next to him. Robert eventually got back up, and he without a doubt held a glare towards his opponent; Din sat back on his side of the stables, still and patient like a hunter with its prey. 

But Robert was also known for his temper, and threw his spear on the ground, pointing a finger at the White Knight. 

“You just tread carefully, churl.”

Anyone would have already been set off, brawling until knuckles were bruised and bloody. You never had any patience for these kinds of pettiness, and it seemed as though Din didn’t either, because he trudged back to his respective area on his horse, not giving Robert a second glance. 

“Yes,” You murmured. “You did.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dread of not knowing your father's burden comes crashing down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've changed the character Robert to Paz since I just realized the potential I overlooked before. 
> 
> tumblr @aint-that-a-mcfreakin-bitch

**Yo** u found him by the back after the joust, where the castle’s stables were. Your own horse, and beautiful brown mare you named Henry, was next to his, picking at the hay below his feet. 

The lily sat idly by your ear, tangled in your locks. Secretly, you _hoped_ the flower had come from Din, though—logically—you knew it _couldn’t_ have come from him. 

He was gently cleaning his horse off, brushing it’s mane and cooing softly to it. The moment was too intimate and you would’ve turned around had he not caught you. 

“No matter where I turn, you are always right there, in my shadow.” He sighed. 

You smiled and looked down at your feet, careful of the pretty flower and lifting the hems of your dress to walk closer to your horse, stroking his nose.

Din watched you carefully, stiff and unyielding. You took no offense to it now. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you lose,” you said. “Maybe one day you can teach me.”

“To fight?” Din scoffed, turning back to the white mare. “I didn’t think you to be the type.”

Now you were the one to scoff. “And why is that, hm? Because I am a woman? Women can fight too, you know.”

“I know. And I would never think that, Princess. It’s just…”

You waited patiently, keeping your attention on Henry so you wouldn’t scare him—the man in the heavy armor that is. 

“I do not think your father would appreciate it,” he finally answered. “This kingdom needs a queen, and—”

“Spare me,” you stopped him. “Just tell me the truth.”

Din sighed heavily again. He did that a lot.

“Your father… has made it known. It is too dangerous and he’d rather you stay away from the likes of war.”

You closed your eyes in frustration. Of _course_ it would be your father. 

“It isn’t his business,” you snapped. “And I’ll have you know that I can do _whatever_ the hell I please, so I don’t need my father’s permission to wield a sword, Knight.”

Din tilted his head, taken aback by your sudden outburst. Before you could make any sort of apology—like you were _taught_ to—he stifled a chuckle. 

And it was so _small_ but it radiated like a thousand suns. A thousand suns, blaring bright and proud in this little moment of serenity. You found herself smiling, chuckling and shaking your head at him. 

“Some days it’s hard to believe you’re a princess. You hardly act like it.” He noted. 

You giggled. “You’re not the first to inform me of this,” you said. “And soon enough it will be ‘Queen’.”

“I’m sure you will be a fine one.”

You blushed, turning your face away to cover it. But it quickly turned into a sigh, stepping away from your beloved horse. 

“I’m not sure that’s entirely what I want.”

It was the first time you said it to someone who wasn’t Jules. It slipped out hesitantly, but once the words left you felt better, lighter even. And you _trusted_ Din, not only with your secrets but with your life as well. 

You saw him visibly tense from your peripheral vision. It confused you, but you guessed he was just looking out for you—as he never failed to do—making sure no wandering ears heard your declaration. 

Din cleared his throat, making you fully turn to him. He wasn’t looking at you, still trained on his horse, but he had stopped petting him and had a hunch to his form, like he was bearing more than just the weight of his attire. 

“I do not think it is wise to say such things so loudly.”

He said your name, and it made your stomach drop at the warning held behind it. 

“What —” You cleared your throat to swallow down the lump. “What are you not telling me, Din?”

Before he could say anymore, an echoed voice called out. 

“Of course,” Paz sneered. “The magnificent Din Djarin, the Princess’s little _bitch_ , playing idly while —”

He stopped when he saw you. You smirked inwardly when you saw the way his body stiffened, like he had just been struck by a sword, and imagined he looked just as horrified as he felt. 

“P-princess.” The appointer stuttered. “My apologies, m'lady. I did not realize you were here.”

“Clearly.” You spat out, chin tilted up. “But please, don’t _stop_ at my expense. Finish what you were going to say.”

Paz was becoming uncomfortable and you reveled in it. Din, however, just seemed as though he wanted the whole thing done and over with so he could move on with his day; you didn’t blame him. 

“Go.” You finally ordered. “And do not speak to my guard that way again. Perhaps your silence is more of use to me than your sword.”

He stammered, clearly embarrassed, and prodded away with careful steps. 

You and Din relaxed at the same moment, but now without a word to say to each other. The silence, although, was quite comfortable between you and it felt _nice_ , being able to share it with someone. You suspected Din must have felt the same way, or least appreciated your understanding of his silent personality. 

“What is the deal between the two of you?” You broke the silence. 

He grunted softly, giving you a small, careless shrug. “Childish rivarily, one that I do not particularly care for.”

You hummed, picking at a tiny piece of string of the seam of your gown. “Well, if he continues on, be sure to tell me.”

The armor creaked, background noise to you at that point, as he fully turned towards you, arms hanging like boards at his sides. 

“I can take care of it.” It wasn’t threatening, nor frustrated; just a simple fact. 

“I know.”

He was going to say something else. Your ears _perked_ for it, but another voice—lest wasn’t Paz—tried to entice the void. 

“Princess!” Jules called out. “You're needed by your father at once, the food is ready to be served.”

You grimaced. Your father had terrible timing. 

“Okay.” You murmured, not even sure if she would be able to hear you. 

“Are you going to eat as well?” You asked Din. 

Din shuffled on his feet. “Not yet. Have duties to attend to.”

You smiled softly. “Well, for my sake Din, try the new sauce. I think you’ll like it.”

He gave you a small bow with the tilt of his head as you walked by, brushing against him as you did. You only walked just a short way before stopping, turning your head. 

“May I ask you a question?”

He nodded.

“Don’t suppose you know the kind person who gifted me this flower?” You asked lightly, giving yourself a mental pat at the ability to hide the shyness from your voice. “It was left on my seat before the joust, and I would like to give them a proper thanks.”

“I’m afraid not.” He put out quickly. 

Your excited heart sank, but your expression remained neutral.

“Shame,” you whispered. “Such a lovely flower.”

You walked further away without another glance. You weren’t _trying_ to be rude, you really weren’t, but you didn’t think you had it in you to hide your disappointment; you hated the fact that you had more of a difficult time with Din than anyone else. 

Jules did not say anything as she walked by your side. You were grateful for that; your thoughts too scrambled to form a conversation. 

_Why are you so disappointed? You had to have known the flower wasn’t from him. You knew it was dangerous to exploit your dislike of being tied down to the royal rule. You—_

It continued on and you wanted to scream. 

_Maybe you should, let the whole damn world hear you stupid scream over a silly little crush._

You were seated by the time you crawled out of your thoughts. Your father made a face at you, wondering with his eyes of the mood you were currently in. You just gave him a one sided shrug and a forced smile. 

The food was delicious. That was something—even lost in your own head—couldn’t deny nor ignore. Especially when you caught eyes with Peter, smiling with glee at the reactions to his sacred art. 

“This is exquisite!” Your father exclaimed, just loudly enough so Peter could hear as well. 

“It is.” You agreed. “We’ll have to have more of it.”

Your father's words blurred into the background again, and you shoved a mouthful of pudding into your mouth when you looked up and spotted him. 

_Oh Lord. What is he doing here?_

Gerald was part of Colestead’s line of fearless Knights, one that used to remind you of that of a wolf when you watched the rare and few times he participated in any fight of entertainment. 

But despite his ruthless combat skills, it didn’t show in the way he spoke—all soft, kind natured, at least towards you. 

And his presence here, as he leaned towards Din, who had just walked through the threshold of your hall, brought you back to the ship you saw earlier and your father’s words echoed in your head. Your chest tightened as the anxiety—unknown and abrupt to you, the sudden fear behind it that made the room spin—clawed at you. 

_“Nothing for you to worry about.”_

Do not cause a scene. Do not do anything stupid.

You took a deep breath as you tried to calm yourself. Bringham must have noticed your stance, because he followed your sight until he stiffened. It went away as soon as it appeared, and he took a big swig from his cup. 

“I’m not going to say a word about it.” You assured lowly and quickly. 

He exhaled deeply through his nose, nostrils flaring slightly. But he looked on solemn towards his people, and turned his head to you with understanding in his eyes. 

“You will know. I’ve promised you this before, and have every intention of keeping to it, love.”

You gave him a tired smile and his shoulder a playful pat. You forced your eyes to stay ahead or to the left, but never to the right where that man stood. If you wanted to make it through the last of the festivities without a trick, then you had to do anything to keep your mind distracted. 

Which is why you called Victoria, a pretty young girl around your age, to your seat with a wide smile. 

Victoria was a very beautiful woman; strawberry blonde hair, just slightly longer than yours, hazel eyes and a wicked curve to her grin. It certainly matched her soul. 

Now you never really liked her as a friend, but there were moments where you could hold a decent conversation without wanting to tear her head off. You prayed this would be one of them.

And she happened to be the daughter of your father’s precious friend. 

“Oh,” she said your name, sweetlike. “Such a beautiful day to celebrate! And where is that lovely maiden of yours?”

Jules did not like her either. You wouldn’t put her through that, and besides, you had no idea on where your friend could be; she soon disappeared just shortly after you were seated. 

“Not sure I’m afraid.” You clicked. “But I’ll tell her you said hi.”

_Jules would get a kick out of it._

She hummed, then looked over to that dreadful right, making your eyes twitched. 

“Between you and I,” she said before leaning down to whisper, “I like the White Knight.”

_Din_. Of course. 

“You are aware that’s my guard you’re talking about.” You grumbled. 

She giggled. “What do you think I’m going to do, Princess? Seduce your little knight away? Don’t be ridiculous.”

Ridiculous? Perhaps. But more likely to be tried? Positively. 

“You’re right. So silly of me.”

Bringham suddenly stood up, clearing his throat and tapping on his mug with a silver spoon. The crowd started to silence themselves as their king awaited patiently, and Victoria gave you a sly wink before slinking back to her seat. 

“Riverhearth has never looked as lively as it does now!” 

There were cheers echoed across the hall, and you couldn’t help the smile that spread your cheeks.

“Enjoy this feast… this moment now. Remember the happy faces and tears of joy you see around yourselves tonight, and keep a tight hold on them, so that they may never fall into darkness.”

They continued to cheer, mouthing praises and going back to their meals as their king, your father, sat down. 

Your father, whose eyes looked more aged than they did that morning. Who looked so much older than he should, holding the weight of whatever secret he was withholding from you. 

_And that blood on your fingers, remember those?_

The rest of the feast went by quickly afterwards. You were quick to send hugs and waves as everyone settled off to their homes. Bringham escorted you to your room himself, yapping away about fairy tales as you listened; he was drunk again. Perfect for you. 

You waited until midnight hit, and everything was quiet. You put on a small coat and very slowly creaked your bedroom door open, sticking your head out to make sure there were no one around. 

The tiptoes around the halls made you think back to that night, and how quiet he was too to sneak up on you like that. Maybe you were too drunk to notice at the time, but either way there appeared to be no guard in sight. 

“Princess.”

You spoke too soon. 

With a roll of your eyes you turned around to face Din, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“Knight.”

“Not surprised to see you about at this time. Again.”

You stifled a smile at the slight irritation in his voice. “Yes. And are you going to drag me back to my room? _Again_.”

He huffed, shaking his head as he stalked towards you. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way. I have no quarrels with either.”

Your hard, tough stance faltered and he caught it. “I—.”

“What’s the problem with me wandering around my own home.” You interjected. “And besides, I have… important matters to attend to.”

You berrated yourself for not coming up with a better ploy, but it was too late to take back and Din was still walking towards you. 

“Please.” You pleaded quietly. “Please just let me—I just want to—I _saw_ him talking to you.”

His heavy puff told you that he knew exactly who you were talking about. You prepared yourself for another argument. The seconds, possibly even minutes that passed by fed into the clawing in your chest, the hard grasp to your heart. You closed your eyes and counted your breaths as you slowly inhaled and exhaled. 

“You will not speak of this to anyone. Not even Jules. Do you understand?”

He caught you off guard. Your arms fell loosely by your sides, your expression falling and the rest of your wait breath escaping you with a puff. 

“Okay.” You nodded eagerly. “I promise.”

Din hovered his arm over your shoulder, leading you back to your room. 

“What—.”

“Not out here.” He shushed. 

You walked the rest of the way with another held breath, and you refused to release it until you heard your bedroom door close behind him. 

“There have been… rumors,” Din started. “Wars. Death. Magic even. There are—there is something coming, and Bringham—he’s enlisting Colestead’s aid in the matter, before we’re left defenseless.”

_Sit. You have to sit down._

You padded around behind you until you felt the wood of your headboard against your skin, and sat down on the edge of your bed. 

“Okay.” You whispered. “So—so that means—.”

You weren’t stupid. You were on good terms with Colestead, no problem at all with aid, but you weren’t stupid. You knew what this entitled, or what it _could_. 

“Yes.” Din confirmed, apologetically even. “James will arrive tomorrow at noon. And they’re—there’s—”

You held up a hand, effectively silencing him. He couldn’t say it, not wanting to push you further over the cliff you were dangerously hanging low from. 

You already _knew_. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The arrival of a bratty prince.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me forever to get out, but there will be more Din and James content in the next chapter!
> 
> Tumblr: @aint-that-a-mcfreakin-bitch

James Newsome. 

That name made you tremble with pure anger. 

The only son to the Newsome Heir, Prince of Coalstead, and one of the most infuriating men you had ever come across. 

You had first met him when you had just turned fifteen, in his home in the smoky, dark yet elegant kingdom that made you appreciate the grassy lands that surrounded yours. Your fathers were quick to introduce the two of you; even at a young age, James had the ego of a thousand kings that immediately butted heads with your ‘righteous morality’ as he grew to call it, but you didn’t fully realize this until you began to see his true colors. It wasn’t hard to deduce what your fathers were up to, and your suspicions about this abrupt meeting were answered when he teased you about it. 

“I think our fathers want us to marry,” he said in a mediocre sing-song. “Another kingdom for the taking, another queen to—”

You kicked him before he could continue. 

From then on out the entire trip was full of arguing and bickering that even your guards couldn’t get under control, and each time he would give you that smile—one of victory and cheekiness you wanted to slap off. Jules, who had gone with you of course, ogled him just as every other girl did when he walked by much to your chagrin; you hoped it still wasn’t so. 

“You’re just letting him get the best of you.” Jules said. She ran her fingers through your hair carefully as she brushed out the harsh tangles from your restless night. “And besides, it’s not like he’s… well, _unfortunate_ looking.”

You grimaced. Sometimes, you wondered about your friend. “You’re not helping, Jules. And you know that it goes _beyond_ his looks.”

She huffed as she took a part of your hair and clipped so that one side was out of your face, her annoyed expression matching your own in the vanity mirror. 

_‘Good’_ , you thought. 

“Well,” she said after clipping the other half of your locks. “You’re the Princess of Riverheart and the most stubborn woman I have ever met.” You couldn’t stifle the grin that also laced her lips and Jules chuckled. “So do something about it, then.”

“Yeah.” You nodded with authority. “That’s right.” You stood up abruptly, twirling around to pull Jules into a tight hug, ignoring her surprised yelp. “Thank you.”

Your steps echoed loudly through the empty halls, sharp and defined as confidence bubbled inside of your chest with a fury. You whipped your head around every corner, not a glimpse of familiar aging hair or colorful robes at every turn. He wasn’t even in the grand hall, odd to you at the early hours but not uncommon. 

Where the devil is he?

It was a long shot, going to your precious garden. Bringham rarely made an appearance, and you supposed it had _everything_ to do with the dead; too many memories. As you expected, he wasn’t. 

With a long and heavy sigh you sat down in the rays of the seething sun and twirled a strand of grass around your pointer finger. You closed your eyes and basked in the warmth of the morning, replaying the night before in your head. 

_“And you’ve told no one else this?” You asked, swallowing through the shock of what Din had just told you._

_“No,” Din answered. “No one out of the Royal Court knows of this.”_

_You nodded, staring at the floor. “Okay.” Your voice wavered through your authoritative tone. “Okay.”_

_“M’lady.” Din cleared his throat. “You must’n let your father know I told you this. I—”_

_“I’m aware,” you gritted out. “I promise you, you will face no consequences for this.”_

_“I didn’t mean to… overstep. I’m sorry.”_

_You sighed and shook your head, burying your face in your hands. “No,” you mumbled. “I shouldn’t take my anger out on you. After all, you’re not the one forcing me into this.”_

_The room filled with silence then, a silence filled with understanding and a sort of acceptance._

_“Din,” you said gently. “Thank you.”_

_The Knight stood postured, as he was trained, but there was a slight shift that told you that your sincerity reached a certain part of him you had not touched._

_“It’s my job.” He replied. “It is the Code.”_

You wished you had the blood of a witch so you could read his mind. To unbrand him and disintegrate the armor that shielded him from the outside world. It was selfish, very selfish of you, you constantly reminded yourself, but that childlike curiosity was a monster to fight; a battle you seemed to lose each and every time. 

“Ah, and _there_ she is.”

Your heart stopped. That voice hadn’t changed much since the last time you saw him, but he had definitely grown out of his boyish features; now replaced with a sharp jaw and cheekbones that matched, floofy, short brown locks that actually kept the younger boy you had met so long ago, with a black coat that defined the muscles he obtained over the years, and a toothy grin that was nothing but hubris as he stood a few feet before you. 

“James,” you greeted coolly. “A surprise to see you here.”

His grin widened. “And did you not miss me, little princess?”

You glared at the pet name. “No, and I believe I told you _not_ to call me that.”

He chuckled, all confident and airy as he strolled towards you, bringing an apple out of his coat pocket. “You certainly haven’t changed… much.”

You narrowed your eyes. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” he walks closer to you, rolling the red apple in his hand, “that you need to loosen up. Let your guard down little princess, you’re not a queen yet, so enjoy it.”

He ended with an offering, the apple just inches away from the tip of your nose. You swiped it out of his grip with a frown. “And here you are already giving me a lecture.”

His grin widened. “I know. But you see,” he did a little twirl, inhaling deeply and opening his arms towards the clear blue skies, “people can change.”

You took a bite of the sweet fruit, chewing thoughtfully. “While that is true,” you mumbled. “That only applies to someone who _actually_ wants to change for the better, not because they’re in need of their father’s treasures.”

James’s smile fell, as did his brows, and it made you smirk behind the apple. After all these years, it felt nice that you could still get underneath his skin and rip him a new one—the only problem was that you were still letting him do the _same thing_ to you. 

“And how does dear ole daddy feel knowing that his only heir is having doubts?!” He smirked as your expression fell. “He _does_ know, doesn’t he?”

You could feel the blood rush to your face, painting it into a hot red that had you seething in your spot. Everything turned into background noise—no, not even that, everything just went numb, and before you could even think or take the next breath, the apple flew from your hand and towards his chest. 

“Hey—” he barely got out in surprise when you lunged at him. 

You didn’t have specifics in mind, but you knew that you just wanted to hurt him; to give him a piece of his own medicine through the only way that flew through your head. Your hand cocked back, knuckles upfront as you swung and you were vaguely aware of the soft _crunch_ of his nose beneath your fist. 

“Son of a bitch!” James howled, clutching at his face, little droplets of blood already seeping through the cracks of his fingers. 

You smiled, triumphant in your stand, but it was quickly shattered when you heard the familiar pounding of hooves coming towards the garden. 

“And what is going on here?”

Ah, you recognized that voice. 

“Oh you know, Perry,” James sighed nasually, “the usual bits.”

Perry, a rather short man with a big rounded nose and a permanent sneer on his lips that matched the yellowish look of his hazel eyes—you imagined those eyes would look rather beautiful and clear without the harshness he brought to them—eyed the Prince’s bloody hand and your clenched fists; no doubt he could pick out the specs of blood on your knuckles. 

As you expected, the guard turned towards you with no hidden malice. “What do you think you’re doing attacking—”

“It’s fine.” James huffed loudly. “I can take care of this myself.” 

You were shocked to say the least, and it must have shown vividly on your face because James’s cheeks scrunched up to the corner of his eyes—he was laughing at you. 

And Perry sat on his horse—at least the horse was well taken care of, as far as you could tell—gritting his teeth in frustration as he knew best not to go against his word. 

“Very well. Remember to arrive _on time_ for dinner, your highness.”

James waved him off, not taking his eyes off you; you held his gaze, refusing to back down. Finally he chuckled, wincing in pain as he did, but kept that smile all the while. 

“You know, a simple thank you will suffice.”

You scoffed. “I do not owe you any apologies of sorts.”

“Not even for saving your ass back there?” He tilted his head back. “Weren’t you taught to show gratification for your saviors?”

You rolled your eyes so hard it felt as though it would stay in the back of your head, barely giving him a moment's chance to stop you—if he had plans to—as you barreled past him.

“Do you know why I’m here?” 

The question makes you stop. “No.” You lied. 

He took a few steps closer to you, blue-gray eyes meeting yours with no traces of teasing—a first for him. 

“I’m not supposed to be here, actually,” he sidetracked from his previous question. “But I was a little curious.”

It was a trap, you could sense it, and you knew better than to fall for it, but the words escaped your mouth without a second thought. “About what?”

His grin widened, pearly white teeth among the tiny streaks of blood from his nose. “If you were going to be happy seeing your soon-to-be _husband_.”

You walked away before you could give him any more satisfaction; his chuckle echoed across your mother's garden, following your heavy steps. 

***

The rain pattered against the rooftop. 

It was a calming feeling in contrast to the brewing anger and frustration inside your chest. Each thump against your window echoed in your heartbeat, and as you sat in your room, refusing to let anyone in, your thoughts ran rampant. 

How could your father not _warn_ you of this? Prepare you for the heavy tasks that were bestowed upon you since birth by royal right, instead of throwing you head first into a marriage you’ve never asked for, and for a war you have no idea how to fight and by his _own_ excuses. 

The problem was that you _knew_ of his reasoning's. You had been prepared for a daunting title since you could walk and talk, and the aspects of a marriage you would not be able to turn down no longer—not without a good fight, at least. Your mind could contradict itself a thousand times just to try and make you feel better, but the end result would remain the same; you were going to have to go through with this, no matter how much you disliked the idea of it. 

“‘For your people,’” you mocked with a scowl. “For my people.”

It made your heart turn in its weeping, struggling to overcome the waves of disdain. At that moment, you wished your mother were there, comforting you and telling you everything you wanted to hear, anything to justify your departure from the title itself.

_“Wars. Death. Magic even.”_

It shook you to the core just thinking about what was coming for your kingdom, your home. And now, all the weight was atop your shoulders, the lives of many in your hands for the first time, and you had no idea whatsoever on how you were going to handle this—marrying James and aligning Coalstead and Riverheart was a start, a start you thought less of. 

Suddenly your mind drifted to the man who relayed this message to you in secret, and remembered that you had not seen him at all since last night. You wanted, no, _needed_ , to see him before you let your head get the best of you; you could talk to him without worrying of him betraying your trust and he seemed to be the only one (other than insufferable fool) that was forthright with you about _everything_. 

It would have to wait until after supper. You didn’t need any more suspicions from your father nor anyone else in the guard that would turn you in in a heartbeat. You needed to be smart and careful about this, no matter the battle raging between your head and heart. 

If the rumors were true, your step to the high chair was coming sooner than you thought. 


End file.
